Relentless
by SparksCrimson
Summary: Nothing has changed. Once I see her again the familiar wave of annoyance and disgust will remind me that this dream was an anomaly. This isn't my unconscious trying to tell me that I have suppressed desire for Hermione Granger. That is utter rubbish.


Everything belongs to JK Rowling, just having fun writing with her characters.

* * *

I trail a curious hand down her soft alabaster stomach. It entices me that this skin was untouched before now. My caress is the first, the sight before me gazed and awed upon only by me. My anticipation to explore grows as my fingertips graze the soft hair between her pale thighs. I trace her slit, up and down, up and down.

"Stop teasing me, Malfoy."

I part her thighs before my eager mouth, my teasing nips on her flesh make her giggle.

"I like teasing you."

I taste her, she opens up for me even more as I begin to swirl my tongue around her soft clit. Her hips begin to rock back and forth against me and she moans out my name. I grab her thighs and concentrate on sucking the little mound that renders her into crying out my name like a fervent prayer.

"Malfoy!"

She raises herself on her elbows, her breasts heave and her nipples are erect. Hermione Granger looks at me with such a starved expression that my erection pains me. She sharply tilts her head back and a throaty moan rises from deep within her.

My eyes shoot open. My pajamas pants are sticky and wet against me.

Hermione Granger.

Fuck.

I don't mind having wet dreams, especially vivid and tantalizing ones, but this one concerns me. It concerns me that I'm not revolted. It concerns me that I actually _want_ to see her today.

* * *

I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I straighten my tie.

Nothing has changed.

Once I see her again the familiar wave of annoyance and disgust will remind me that this dream was an anomaly. This isn't my unconscious trying to tell me that I have suppressed desire for Hermione Granger. That is utter rubbish.

* * *

"Dried Billywig Stings?" Hermione Granger says.

She's right, like she always is.

I roll my eyes as her raised hand descends to rest against the table. She never rests her quill, I notice. She's always ready to scrawl and scribble notes.

What a dork.

I glance down at her legs that are covered in opaque black tights. I wonder if they are as pale and smooth as in my dream. Her lips are closed as she concentrates on the lecture, so unlike her moaning mouth that cried out my name. Granger turns and I study her profile, I can't deny the perfect slope of her nose and soft full lips. It's disturbing that I can't look away. Suddenly, she is looking back at me.

I don't avert my gaze.

She scrunches her eyebrows trying to figure me out. The edge of my mouth twists up into something of a smile. She whips her head back toward lecture. I want her to look back at me but she doesn't.

* * *

It's my chance for an interaction. I sashay up to her as she walks alone in the corridor and knock the books from her hand.

"What the hell!"

She pushes me against my shoulder, an open palmed jab that was free from hesitation. I feel an electric pulse run throughout my body.

"You bastard," she says. She bends over to pick up her books and I take the liberty to glance at her arse. I feign interest in one book, placing my hand over hers to read the title.

" _Defensive Magical Theory_?"

She has the softest skin I ever felt, even softer than mine. I wonder if her whole body is just as soft.

"Preparing for something?"

Her soft hand retracts from underneath mine. She huffs and begins to walk briskly away from me, "Yes, your side."

"My side?"

She doesn't respond and continues to walk away from me. I follow her.

She stops, "Why do you still insist on bothering me?"

She gets closer.

"I'm not the only muggleborn here."

Closer.

"I guess you're my favorite," I say.

"You get pleasure from teasing me, don't you?" she says.

She's right in front of me; she looks up at me with a raised, defiant chin.

"I like teasing you."

* * *

I quell my groans from emitting as my hand furiously pumps up and down my cock. I close my eyes and imagine that I'm not enclosed in a bathroom stall. I'm in my bedroom at home with her. She lies on my bed naked, her eyes are eager for me as she spreads her legs for me.

"Come here, Malfoy," she says.

The tip of my cock is slick as I rub against her. I push it inside her and feel enveloped in warmth.

"Oh, Granger," I whisper.

My mouth envelops her erect nipple. I suck and bite gently eliciting sharp inhales from her. Her soft skin is everywhere against me, her legs wrap around me possessively as I thrust into her. Hermione Granger's hands run down the length of my back and grab my arse, her palms dig into the meat of my arse cheeks and I moan. Her hips buck up against me, she never wants my cock to withdraw completely away. She wants and needs me. I want and need her. The pressure builds inside me, torturous and almost painful. I'm on the edge of fulfillment, the cusp of gratification…

The door squeals open and I hear footsteps echo across the bathroom. The sound of a zipper unzips and an intense piss hits the porcelain urinal. The interrupter sighs in contentment from relieving said intense piss.

Thanks for killing my boner, fucker.

I peek from the slit in the stall and see ginger hair.

My presence startles Ron Weasley as I slam open the stall door. I adjust my flaccid dick in my pressed trousers and walk to the sink.

"Having a shit?" he says.

"A wank," I retort.

His expression of mockery ebbs and is replaced by revulsion.

"That you ruined," I add.

I flick the excess water from my hands before reaching out for a paper towel.

"Gross, Malfoy."

His stupid face bothers me.

"Have a good day, Weaselbee," I grab the handle of the door, "and tell Granger I said hi, been thinking about her recently."


End file.
